A candle burnt low
by Kindle-the-Stars
Summary: A one shot, Mr Thornton is at the house having a lesson with Mr Hale when Frederick arrives.


**Characters belong to the lovely and talented Gaskell, I am just borrowing them for a oneshot :)**

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The candles had burnt low in Mr Hale's study, the light flickering unevenly on the walls, casting long shadows into the corners. John Thornton had attended an evening lesson with the ex-parson, only to be drawn into a debate on philosophy as their lesson drew to an end.

Their conversation was interrupted by a ring at the bell downstairs.

"My goodness, who would be calling at this hour?" Mr Hale said bemusedly, looking at the study door as John pulled out his pocket watch.

"My mother has probably sent the carriage, a not so subtle hint that I should return home," he said, having noticed that he had stayed long beyond a polite hour. "My apologies, I had not realised it had gotten so late."

"Quite alright, quite alright," Mr Hale said with his usual amiableness. "The time does tend to run away with you when discussing something as fascinating as Plato. We can continue our debate tomorrow, if you wish."

John gave an affirmative reply and collected his jacket from the back of the chair. As the two men headed downstairs they heard the soft noise of the door opening and an exclamation too low to catch the words.

Preceding Mr Hale down the stairs, John was startled to find Margaret swept up in a young mans tight embrace. He came to an abrupt halt on the steps, staring fiercely as the handsome, elegant young man lifted her off her feet and spun her round – Margaret seemed uncaring about the impropriety of such an action, a low, breathless giggle escaping her smiling lips.

"Margaret?" Mr Hale's voice came from behind him. "Did we hear the door?"

The young couple (for surely they were a couple, his jealous mind whispered) broke apart, their eyes flying to the stairs. Margaret saw him standing there with her father, scowling furiously, and her face abruptly changed to an expression akin to panic.

The young man moved towards them, his gaze fixed on Mr Hale with a beseeching expression. Mr Hale moved past him, slowly approaching the young man. John was further surprised that instead of berating the man for the liberties he had taken with his daughter, the older man lifted his trembling hands to his face. "My boy … you've come home," he said softly, pulling the young gentlemen tightly to his body.

John looked from the two men embracing back to Margaret, who was still staring at him with wide-eyed horror. John's mind leapt instantly to conclusions: from the way he had been greeted, he assumed that this young man was a longstanding lover of Margaret's who had been away, one who was already welcomed into the family as their future son-in-law. Jealousy reared its head, making his tone sharper than usual.

"Might I enquire as to what is going on here?" he said, his northern brogue thick with suppressed anger.

Mr Hale released the man and turned to him with a beaming smile. "John, allow me to introduce -"

"Father," Miss Hale interrupted swiftly, an unmistakable warning tone in her voice.

"It's alright Margaret, Mr Thornton has my complete confidence," Mr Hale said, still smiling. "John, please allow me to introduce my son, Frederick Hale."

The breath he hadn't realised he was holding was expelled in a low rush. "Your son?" he repeated, feeling that he had just been hit over the head, unaware that his mouth was hanging slightly open and his eyebrows were raised.

He looked at the young man – Frederick – appraisingly, and sure enough was able to trace certain similarities to Margaret's features. He was her brother, not her lover.

"I hadn't realised you had another child," he said, automatically extending his hand for the young man to shake.

"There is a good reason for that," Frederick said, shaking his hand with all the smiling amicability his father possessed. "Pleased to meet you, Mr Thornton. You're a manufacturer, I believe?" He cast his sister an easy grin. "Margaret mentioned you in some of her letters."

John glanced at Margaret, who was fretfully wringing her hands, more discomposed than he had ever seen her. Her face was pale and wan as she anxiously looked between him and her brother.

Following his gaze, Frederick Hale looked to his sister, noticing her current distress. "Margaret, if father trusts this man then I do too. I'm sure he will not do me harm if he is a friend of the families," he said reassuringly – his strange words causing John's eyebrows to rise once more.

Before he could request clarification he felt Mr Hale's hand on his shoulder. "It appears you have stumbled across our family secret, John," Mr Hale said, still smiling despite the sudden seriousness of his tone. "Come, let us return to the study. I think we owe you an explanation."

* * *

Margaret's hands were trembling as she approached the study, the spoons on the tea tray she carried rattling with her nerves. Pushing open the door, she silently entered her fathers sanctuary and busied herself preparing the cups and saucers for the men, keeping her eyes lowered.

Mr Thornton was sat with his elbows braced on the armrests of his chair, his brow heavy and his index fingers steepled together over narrow lips as he listened to Frederick telling his story. The dim light from the candles cast half his face in shadow, giving him a stern, brooding look.

She wordlessly prepared each of the gentlemen their tea, knowing the different ways all of them liked it, and handed around the cups.

Mr Thornton started to question Fred as he finished his account of the mutiny, his tone deceptively neutral. He asked where he had travelled, what attempts he had made to hide his identity and, finally, how he intended to conceal himself while in England.

Margaret slowly allowed herself to relax – Mr Thornton's questions did not appear to be an interrogation of any sort, but rather honest curiosity. It appeared her father was right in placing his trust in Mr Thornton.

Eventually the reason for Fred's sudden visit came out and his gaze turned to Margaret, his eyes anxious. "How is mother, Margaret? You said she lives, but is she …"

Knowing that her brother was asking if their mother was dying, Margaret nodded sorrowfully.

Fred bit his lip, looking every bit as boyish as she remembered from her youth. "Do you think I could see her tonight?"

"It is very late, she will be sleeping," Margaret replied softly.

"I won't disturb her," he insisted. "Please, I need to see her."

Knowing she would want to do the same were she in Fred's position, she nodded once more. Their father stood up, lightly touching Fred's shoulder. "Come, I'll take you up there now. Margaret, you don't mind showing Mr Thornton out, do you?"

Mr Thornton, recognising this as a polite dismissal, placed his teacup back in the saucer and returned it to the tea tray. He shook the hands of both men as they left the room, and then started to gather his jacket and the few books he was borrowing from her father.

They descended the stairs in silence and he wordlessly collected his hat and gloves, seeming very deep in thought.

"Mr Thornton?" she said suddenly as he opened the door to leave. He turned to face her, looming tall above her. "I wanted to thank you for being so …understanding," she said demurely. "For turning a blind eye."

His eyebrows lifted ever so slightly. "You really think me capable of turning your brother over to the authorities, Miss Hale?"

"You are a magistrate, sir," she said, looking down at her hands. "You cannot deny that we have put you in an awkward position."

Mr Thornton acknowledged the point with a nod. "Having listened to your brothers story I believe him to be morally, though not lawfully, in the right," he said, causing her to look up at him once more. "I am not so rigidly principled that I cannot see the moral grey area in this circumstance. Young Mr Hale is no danger to the realm and will leave the country after …"

He trailed off uncomfortably, though Margaret knew what he was trying to say – Frederick would be leaving after their mothers death.

"I see no harm in turning a blind eye, as you put it, in this case," he continued after a momentary pause.

"Thank you," she said sincerely, favouring him with a small smile.

Mr Thornton gave her a clipped nod and extended his hand. "Goodnight, Miss Hale," he said as his long, leather clad fingers engulfed her own much smaller ones – for the first time since before the riot, her mind reminded her.

"Goodnight, Mr Thornton," she said, slowly releasing his hand.

She lingered by the open door as he descended the front steps of the house. "Mr Thornton?" she called suddenly, surprising herself.

He turned on the pavement to face her. "Would you care to join us for dinner tomorrow?" she found herself asking. "I think Fred likes you, I'm sure he would like to get to know you better."

Mr Thornton tipped his hat in her direction. "As you wish, Miss Hale."

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**Every time you leave a review, Mr Thornton takes his shirt off … surely that's incentive enough ;)**


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